Emenaha Godwin Holiday Poet Sonnet

The Rain And Its Petrichor

Silver clouds descend with quiet grace,
?Cast their cool, grey shadows on the land,
?First drops fall find their resting place,
?On sun-baked earth, on thirsty land.
?
?Then from the soil a whisper starts to rise,
?Ancient scent no perfumer can name,
?Petrichor blooms beneath the skies,
?The earth and heaven reclaim their fame.
?
?Stones grow dark, the rivers start to sing,
?Roots drink deep what the heavens give,
?And in that smell, the memory of spring,
?Reminds all living things how good to live.
?
?Let the rain descend, clouds grow deep,
?Let the storm roll in, dark clouds sweep,
?Bring your coziness to my sleep
?For you are earth's most sacred keep.
?

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